


Overload

by GemmaRose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bilingual Character(s), Bilingual Lance, Body Horror, Body Modification, Clone Sex, Crying, Dark Magic, Dirty Talk, Gay Keith (Voltron), Genital Torture, Milking, Multi, Nipple Torture, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Rescue, Restraints, Sex Magic, Torture, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: When Laura McClain refuses to break under the galra's usual interrogation techniques, the druids are allowed to have their way with her.Crossposted from the Voltron kink meme.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OP specifically requested that fem!Lance still be called Lance, so I only use my headcanon name for her once. Explanation of her nickname's origin is in the end notes.

Laura “Lance” McClain had gotten in a lot of trouble in her relatively short life, she freely admitted that fact. She was also willing to admit, after some time to nurse her wounded pride, that most of said trouble had been of her own making. Keep Out signs were a suggestion at best, rules were made to be broken, and really what was the point of life if you weren’t going to live it to the fullest? There was a reason her twitter header was #YOLO, after all. This time, however, it wasn’t her fault. At least, not directly.

They’d been out on a mostly-peaceful planet, and since the local aliens were more or less humanoid Lance had hunted down a clothing store and started looking for a new bra. The one she’d been wearing when they left Earth was cute, yeah, but it was the kind of cute which started to fall apart after a few months of daily wear. And really, what kind of assholes attacked a girl while she was out shopping? Galra, apparently.

Lance groaned and shifted on the narrow, highly uncomfortable bed of her cell, trying to find a position which didn’t hurt. The interrogators were none too gentle in pursuit of information on Voltron, but she guessed she was too valuable to kill so after every torture session she was shoved in something like a cryo-pod. She was never in for long enough to make the pain fully subside, but at least her legs could bear her weight today and her hands didn’t look like they would scar.

She settled for lying on her side, back to the bars of her cell, and wondered how long she’d been here. It felt like at least a week, but with the way the lights never changed she could’ve been here for no more than a few days. Either way, she was sure her friends would be coming soon. Allura needed Voltron, and Voltron needed all five Paladins. They’d figure out where she was being held, and come rescue her big-damn heroes style. Maybe she could convince Hunk to carry her out, she’d always kinda wanted to get princess-carried by a knight in shining armour. Admittedly in those daydreams she’d been wearing a princess dress, not a prisoner’s jumpsuit, but they were in space, compromises had to be made.

A loud clang of metal on metal jolted her from her daydreams, and she winced as every bruise and barely-healed injury on her body protested the violent motion. “Up and at ‘em.” the guard barked, and Lance sat up with a groan and a wide, only-mostly-fake yawn.

“C’mon, man.” she whined, leaning back against the wall so as not to stress the places where she’d been whipped until she bled. They still hurt when she slumped forward, and she was kinda worried they were going to scar. “Five more minutes? A girl needs her beauty sleep, y’know.”

“Up.” the guard repeated, and Lance sighed. No sense walking into a torture session already injured. She stood up, carefully keeping up her mask of annoyance. First rule of dealing with bullies, don’t let them see how much they hurt you. And really, what were these guards but bullies who’d been given ranks and weapons? The door slid open, and she didn’t resist as the guard slapped a pair of cuffs around her wrists. The less energy she spent resisting the rank and file, the more she had to fight through the pain later.

The hallways were monotonous, the room numbers unreadable since they were written in galran script, but Lance had a decent head for directions and she was certain that they were taking her somewhere different today. A few dozen terrible possibilities flashed through her head, and she sucked a deep breath in through her teeth. No matter what, she would be strong. She was a McClain, and a Paladin of Voltron to boot.

The door she was eventually marched through lead to a room she’d never seen before, and Lance’s eyes widened at the sight of the half dozen aliens waiting within. Long white hair, hooded robes with jagged ends, these must be druids like the ones her friends had fought. Lance swallowed, but her stoic mask shattered when some invisible force yanked her forward into the middle of the room. The floor was smooth metal, slightly sunken in the center with a drain set at the lowest point. Ostensibly, so they didn’t have to mop up blood, a detached corner of her brain supplied as she skidded to a halt over it.

Lance’s her arms lifted against her will to slot into some sort of restraint, and tensed as the mechanism engaged. It fastened tight around her wrists, just under her armpits, and on either side of her bent elbows. If she tilted her hands and stretched a little, she could just brush her fingertips together over her head. The druids could probably inflict more pain with less pod time, she realized with a belated jolt of fear. They had magic, after all, and Lance was pretty sure it was at least equal to the Unforgivables in terms of nastiness.

“I’ll give you a chance.” said one of the druids as the guards left the room. One wearing a slightly different robe stepped forward, and Lance guessed it was in charge. “Tell us how to get through your castle’s defenses, and you’ll be sent back to your cell.”

“No.” Lance said firmly, standing tall despite the pain blooming up and down her back.

“Good.” the druid lifted its head, revealing galran eyes and a needle-toothed grin. “Apprentices, cast your spell.”

The other five druids, apparently they were all apprentices, lifted their arms and began to chant in a language that was probably the galran equivalent of Latin. Heat raced through her body, burning away the lingering pain, and Lance’s knees gave out as the warmth filled her. The straps around her arms kept her from dropping very far at all, and her head briefly fogged up with pure bliss. The apprentices muttered to each other, and Lance struggled to pay attention as they split up. Three went to various points in the room, and the other two approached her.

The zipper which ran up her spine was pulled open, and the cool air hitting her skin helped clear the fog a little bit. She had to keep her wits about her, but as claws traced around her biceps she had to bite back a whimper. They were stripping her. She should be struggling, fighting back, kicking and screaming and making their lives as difficult as possible. Hell, the one removing her sleeves was in perfect headbutting distance, but just lifting her head took so much _effort_.

Her sleeves were tugged off over her hands, and tossed off to the side as another pair of claws split the seams along her shoulders. The druids peeled off the tight-fitting garment, and Lance’s stomach clenched when it passed her hips. She pressed her legs together, but one pair of clawed hands pulled them back apart while the other stripped her clothes the rest of the way off. She’d lost her panties and bra when they first dragged her in, so when the druids backed up with the ruined jumpsuit they left her fully nude.

Lance pressed her legs together again, and felt a blush rising in her cheeks. It rose faster when she realized the dampness on her inner thighs wasn’t sweat, and her heart started to beat faster. She tracked the apprentice druids with her eyes as they conferred with each other and the druid in charge. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it couldn’t possibly be anything good. She’d sat through enough lectures on safety from Mamá to have an idea of what happened to pretty girls in a situation like this, but despite her pounding heart she couldn’t muster up the appropriate amount of fear.

“What are you going to do to me?” she snapped, or at least she tried to. It came out closer to a mumble, and if the damn magical heat would leave her skin then she was sure she would’ve gone cold. The lead druid chuckled, and waved its hand. Lance moaned as more heat pulsed through her, advancing out from her core in time with her heartbeat. One of the apprentice druids set a bowl of some smouldering substance just a foot in front of her, then hurried back to its peers and they began chanting again.

She tried to avoid inhaling the fumes, because anything the druids were doing was Bad News with capital letters and everything, but the hot smoke seemed to twist in midair and cloud around her mouth and nose. She coughed as it settled in her lungs, gagging on the bitter taste, and then a few things happened in quick succession. First, the magical heat rushed out of her extremities, condensing into a burst of sudden, painful arousal as it settled between her legs. Second, her breasts changed. One instant they were normal, her nipples firm from the cold air, the next they were, well, bigger. She’d been a C cup since she got her acceptance letter to the Garrison, and she’d been perfectly fine having that as her final size, but now she was at least a D. And not only were her boobs bigger, her nipples were as well. Fatter, longer, they might have even been darker.

Sick fear twisted in her gut, and then pain speared through her chest as her breasts began to swell. She sagged forward as they ballooned to at least the size of her head, if not bigger, and almost missed the final magical change to her body. Something was happening between her legs. She couldn’t see, but the uneasiness in her stomach told her she didn’t want to. Throwing up all over herself was _not_ something she wanted to do. Whatever had shifted, though, it sent jolts of pleasure up through her core as she pressed her thighs together.

Lance spread her legs a bit, and straightened her back as well as she could. Her center of gravity was all fucked up, but since her arms were locked in place at least she didn’t have to worry about falling over. Her skin was covered in sweat despite the chill air of the room, and her legs shook slightly, but she glared at the druids regardless. “You think this’ll make me talk?” she spat, and thankfully this time the words came out clear and venomous. “You may have had Shiro for a year, but you know jack shit about human women.” she managed a smile, and did her best to project her usual air of confidence. “We’re built tougher, and the ladies of my family are especially sturdy. You can’t torture me into submission, so you may as well give up now.”

To Lance’s dismay, the druids laughed. It sounded almost exactly like the cackle Mami had done for wicked witches when she read fairy tales. “Haggar and her coven have been testing the other human since Champion’s escape.” the lead druid said smugly. “Your kind are susceptible to more than just pain.”

Lance’s stomach twisted. Other human? Singular? _Experiments_? Fuck, Pidge was going to be crushed. Shiro too, since he’d become Champion to keep the Holts safe. Lance shut her eyes to will back tears, and did her best to block out the chanting. So long as she didn’t look at their illusions, or listen to anything they said, she’d get through this. She just had to keep thinking about her friends, her team, her- someone was running a finger up her slit.

Lanc’s eyes flew open, and she nearly lost what little food was left in her stomach from the last time they fed her. It was _her_ , but with cruel golden eyes and a sinister smile. The only difference was in the clone’s hair, pure black where Lance’s was a rich beautiful brown and literally floating around its head, the tips fading into nothing instead of having a defined end. The clone was naked, and continued to smile as it slowly knelt in front of her.

Lance snapped. “No!” she yelled, kicking at the clone’s shoulder and knocking it back. The head druid tutted, the apprentices sniggering.

“Tell us how to penetrate your castle’s defenses, and she’ll disappear.” the druid waved its hand, and the clone rose back to its knees.

“Never.” Lance spat, planting a foot on her clone’s sternum. It made her stomach twist to see that this shadow had breasts of the proper size. She shouldn’t be happy about any part of this situation, but on some level she was glad that her clone was normal. Her foot suddenly passed through the clone’s body, and Lance yelped as she overbalanced. An iron grip fastened on each of her thighs, and she sagged forward as her feet were forcibly pushed apart and back.

“Well, if you ever want it to stop, you know what we need to hear.” the druid grinned, and Lance’s heart sank. She was so screwed, and in the worst possible way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laura got the nickname Lancero as a kid, when she and her siblings watched Fury Road together. She’d ride around on the back of her favourite sister's bike as a lancer, carrying a broom for a weapon, and Lancero was quickly shortened to Lance. When her roomie asked about it their first day at the Garrison, she went “ok have u heard of an awesome old flick called Fury Road” and wound up getting half their hallway in trouble for rolly-chair jousting. When she’s about to do something stupid or reckless (both in battle and in day to day life) she yells WITNESS ME before diving in. The first time she did it in battle, Hunk yelled at her afterwards because that's what the war boys say before they **commit suicide**.


	2. Chapter 2

Lance tried to pull away, but between her arms being clamped in place and the vice-like grip on her thighs she didn’t make much headway. Her shadow-clone leaned in, and Lance’s whole body tensed as its tongue licked slowly over her skin. It reached her clit, and Lance clenched her teeth against a moan as far too many nerves lit up. That was what they’d done to her, what the magic had changed, and she hated it with every fibre of her being that wasn’t lighting up with involuntary pleasure. “Deja.” she gasped, her whole body shaking with the effort of not bucking into the sensation. It was so much _more_ than any of the fumbling around she’d done back on Earth, but despite her struggling and gasping the shadow clone didn’t so much as pause.

Its teeth scraped over her clit, and Lance screamed as all the tension in her body flooded out. She went limp, and a whimper passed her lips as the shadow-clone’s lips wrapped around her clit. Two fingers pressed into her, and Lance gritted her teeth. “Por favor.” she gasped, fighting to get the words out clearly as she rapidly built towards another climax. The shadow-clone’s fingers curled inside her, and Lance screamed again as more liquid ran down her legs. “Es demasiado.” she gasped, and it came out half a sob as the shadow clone kept going, teeth and tongue on Lance’s clit and fingers buried in her cunt, massaging a spot Lance hadn’t even known _existed_.

Her thighs were sticky with her own dried come when the shadow-clone finally backed off, and Lance sobbed in relief. Her throat was raw from screaming and sobbing, and it felt like a leaden weight had settled itself in her gut. This was worse than the torture. That had just been pain and fear and anger, she could steel herself against it and wait to be healed afterwards. But this, this was something she couldn’t help but react to. It felt good, and that fact made her feel sick.

“Will you tell us what we need to know?” a druid asked, and Lance weakly shook her head. She couldn’t break. Voltron needed five Paladins, not four and a broken mess.

“Hmm.” the druid mused, lifting a hand to tap at its chin. Lance noted that there was only the one left, and dimly tried to wonder where the others had gone. “I wonder if this would help convince you.” it said, and started gesturing as it recited more words in galran latin. Soothing warmth seeped into Lance’s core, and she was about to relax slightly when body stepped up behind her. The proximity made her tense, and what little of her wits she had about her were immediately focused on it. It was male, the hands which landed on the sides of her ribcage rough with callouses that dragged against her skin as they circled around to rest under her breasts, and Lance’s heart skipped a beat when it chuckled.

“Ha pasado un tiempo, ¿no es así, querida?” it murmured in her ear, and the involuntary shivers that traced down her spine were as familiar as the scent of spray-on deodorant which clung to his skin. They’d only dated for a few months in her last summer before shipping off to the Garrison, and he hadn’t even been her first boyfriend, but he’d been the only one in Cuba who got past first base with her.

“No.” she sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to struggle away. But her muscles were weak, sluggish, and her arms were still bound over her head. “Nadie más que a él.”

“Vaya, azúcar. Pensé que me amabas.” it teased, lifting one of her breasts. The weight off her chest was enough to draw out a small moan, and Lance struggled as hard as she could against the straps and hands binding her. “Sabes que te quiero.” he breathed in her ear, lifting her other breast and squeezing the underside of both. As sensitive as she still was from the torturous string of orgasms, Lance couldn’t stop herself from moaning.

“Usted ha llegado aún más atractiva.” he moaned, pushing his hips forwards so his dick slid up between her ass cheeks. “Tal vez cuando hemos terminado aquí, yo te llevaré a casa y atar una cinta alrededor de éstos.” he squeezed her breasts again, hands moving up closer to her too-big nipples. “Apuestan se sentiría muy bonito alrededor de mi carajo.”

Lance whimpered, and couldn’t help the way her hips jerked forward. Fingers brushed over her entrance, and she kicked weakly at the shadow-clone in front of her. Its fingers clenched on her thighs again, and Lance was almost relieved by the bruising grip. As long as it was holding her, it could only use its mouth.

“Siempre amé su tetas.” he murmured, and Lance cried out weakly as his thumbs brushed over her nipples. His thumbs were damp on the next pass, and wet on the one after that, and he chuckled in her ear as he began attacking her nipples in earnest, pinching and twisting in a way that felt like pure, absolute ecstasy. Tears traced down her salt-streaked face.

“You always wanted this.” the shadow clone between her legs hissed, voice somehow perfectly clear despite how close its face was to her crotch. “This irresistible body, this _worship_.” its tongue pressed into her, and Lance’s sob came out closer to a moan. “You must love this.” it continued, voice still hissing clearly in Lance’s ear despite having its tongue more than busy. “All those filthy fantasies, and doesn’t this just beat all of them.”

“No.” Lance sobbed, and he chuckled darkly in her ear.

“Mentiroso.” he breathed “Te encanta esto, puta.” he paired a particularly vicious thrust of his hips with a twist-pull on her nipples, and Lance sobbed. “Debemos conseguir algunos soldados aquí para disfrutar del espectáculo.” his tongue ran around the shell of her ear, and Lance screamed as she came. Wetness slid down her legs, despite the fact that she’d been coming dry just a few minutes ago, and between her wrenching sobs and racing heart she simply couldn’t get enough air.

“No, not to watch.” the shadow-clone purred, its voice echoing in Lance’s head like it was originating there. “To join in the fun.” it sucked her clit into its mouth again, and Lance tried weakly to kick it away, “After all, it’s not every day you learn a Paladin want to find out what a galra dick feels like.”

“Ex-Paladín” he murmured in her ear in the same tone he used to endearments. “Voltron merece algo mejor que una puta como tú.” he pulled back, shifting to go for her other ear, and Lance screamed.

“¡No!” she jerked her head back, and managed to bring one of her knees up with enough force to actually throw off her shadow clone. Her body froze before she could do anything more, though, and a clawed hand gripped her face. A druid.

“Yes.” it hissed, golden eyes burning into hers even through the haze of tears. “They speak only the truth. The Paladins are not coming here. They were never going to.”

“No.” Lance sobbed, her throat raw and aching. “Mis amigos vienen a por mí.”

“You poor, delusional thing.” it tutted, sounding more fed-up than sympathetic. “Why would they come for someone like you?” a second clawed hand tweaked one of her nipples, and Lance struggled not to arch into the touch. “They have the Blue Lion, and its Paladin’s armour and bayard. What would they want with you?” it rolled the darkened, leaking nub between its fingers and Lance couldn’t suppress a moan, or stop herself from arching into the touch. “All you’re good for is breeding stock, after all. And not even high quality.”

Her clone began stroking her again, gentle touches which avoided her clit, and Lance would’ve inhaled through her nose if it hadn’t been clogged with snot. “You can’t break me.” she rasped out, voice hitching a little as the clone began to finger her.

“We’ll see about that.” the druid grinned, stepping back. A different male figure stepped up behind her, and Lance was painfully aware of his firm cock against her ass. Its claws scraped over her clit, and she screamed as sparks of pain-pleasure burned through her. Her shadow-clone stood, and Lance sobbed in relief when its fingers left her. Then they latched onto her nipples, and she sobbed harder. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.


	3. Chapter 3

“Split up.” Shiro said quietly, his hand not yet glowing but held in position to ignite at a thought. “And until one of us finds her, we maintain radio silence.”

Keith nodded, and gripped his bayard tighter as they broke, Shiro going up the nearest flight of stairs and Keith going down. It had taken them a week and a half to track down where exactly their teammate was being held captive, and he was still a bit suspicious of how easy getting in had been but that took a back seat right now. Shiro had nearly hyperventilated when Coran asked if he should program the cryo-pod for anything specific, and Keith didn’t want to think about what their leader had remembered in that moment, what terrible things the galra could be subjecting Lance to right this second.

The translator Pidge had rigged into his helmet’s visor told him that the panel next to the door on his left said simply Storage, and the one on his right was a word that either wasn’t in the database or just didn’t translate. He opened the door on his right, and peeked inside. There were four figures in the room, that he could see. One in druid robes standing near the back, one female with impossibly huge breasts restrained in the middle of the room, and two nude figures pressed up against the bound woman. Okay, that was, weird. Weird and kinda really messed up.

“Deja. Pro favor.” the restrained one gasped, and Keith completely forgot about letting the door slide shut to continue down the hall. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure what was going on, but only one person this far out into space spoke Spanish. Keith charged at the druid with a battle cry, and it looked up with wide golden eyes just in time for him to jab his bayard through its neck. The spray of purple blood as its head came off had a remarkable amount of coverage, and he wiped his visor with one hand as he spun around to face the two other not-Lance people in the room. One of them had been a galra soldier, he was pretty sure.

There was nobody there. Just Lance, arms bound over her head and anatomy distorted to a frankly disturbing level. Keith’s stomach twisted at the sight of his teammate, his _friend_ slumped in those restraints, and he turned back to the druid. The fabric of its cloak was more than a bit bloody in the front, but it was sturdy and almost entirely intact, the only hole being where Keith’s sword had pierced the base of the hood. Wrestling it off of the druid’s corpse took a minute, and he kept his eyes averted as he approached Lance. “Here.” he said, sliding it over her head halfway blindly. “It’s bloody, but anything’s better than being naked, right?” he tried to chuckle, but Lance didn’t respond. Keith tapped the side of his helmet, reopening comms, and moved behind Lance with his bayard raised.

“Hey, Shiro.” he said, slicing carefully through the forearm restraints on her left arm. The flat of the blade left purple smears on her skin, and served to highlight scars which he was pretty sure hadn’t been there when she was captured. “I’ve got Lance. She’s in one piece, but I’m not sure she’ll be able to walk out of here on her own power.” he cut her arm entirely free, and she sagged forward. With the way she was still halfway bound, that couldn’t be good for her shoulder.

“She’s unconscious?” Shiro asked, and Keith wrapped an arm around her lower ribs to support her before making short work of the straps on her right arm. Lance sagged in his grip, and for a moment Keith feared the worst. Then she shoved away from him and staggered forward, dropping to her knees and elbows after a few shaky steps.

“No, just.” Keith gritted his teeth, and deactivated his bayard as he walked over to tug the cloak down over her back. It only hung to her thighs, but at least she wasn’t naked anymore. “The druids really did a number on her.”

Lance chuckled, broken and humourless, and Keith knelt at her side.

“Can I talk to her?”

“Shiro wants to talk to you.” he said gently, resting a hand between her shoulder blades. She was shaking all over, but still tried to sit up. The changes to her anatomy were obviously messing with her balance, though, so Keith put an arm around her shoulders to support her. “Think you can manage English?” he asked, hanging his bayard on his hip.

Lance nodded, and Keith pulled his helmet off with his free hand. Lance pulled it down over her mess of hair, and a wavery smile flashed on her face, probably at the sound of Shiro’s voice. “I didn’t tell them anything.” she said, voice hoarse and weak. It sounded wrong, and Keith’s stomach turned as it finally hit him what the druid must’ve been doing to her. He glanced over at the corpse, and briefly considered mutilating it. But no, it wasn’t alive to feel the pain so there was no point. Lance pulled his helmet off, and Keith pulled it back on with one hand.

“Keith?” Shiro said, and Keith pressed down on the back of his helmet so it would seal against his flight suit.

“I’m here.”

“Carry Lance back to our Lions. I’m near something that looks important, so I’ll damage that to create a distraction then come meet you.”

“Will do.” Keith nodded, and Shiro cut the connection. One of them would tell the others once they got out of here. “We need to move, and fast.” Keith said, pulling Lance’s left arm over his shoulders and standing. Her legs shook violently, and he grimaced as he found himself supporting all of her weight. “Okay, this isn’t gonna work.” he said, and knelt slowly so Lance wouldn’t fall on her ass. “Think you can hold on for a piggy back ride?”

Lance shook her head, and rubbed at her eyes with the heel of one hand.

“Okay.” Keith sighed, and changed the positioning of his arm around her back. He’d have to carry her bridal style, and pray they didn’t encounter any galra patrols on their way out. The cloak flapped open when he picked her up, and Keith kept his eyes on the door. Lance was heavy as hell, and kept squirming in his arms, but somehow he managed to get them up to the floor with the hangar bay he and Shiro had crash landed in.

\---

Lance breathed quickly and shallowly through her mouth, teeth clenched and throat tight in an effort to remain silent. Keith had already seen her naked and crying, she wasn’t sure her pride could take it if he heard her moaning just from the feeling of the druid’s cloak rubbing against her nipples. He set her down gently, and she felt the familiar grated flooring of one of the Lions. He hurried out, and a minute later came back with a lumpy bag.

“Shiro insisted on bringing this.” he said, holding it out to her. Lance took the sack, and her heart soared as she felt what was inside. Her armour. She’d known they would come for her, but she hadn’t expected them to do this. Lance felt her face split in a smile, and her hyper-sensitive skin was forgotten for a minute as she hugged the bag to her aching chest.

“Thank you.” she said thickly, and Keith grinned that stupid awkward grin.

“I’ll go hold the door.” he said, and grabbed his bayard as he stood. “We’ll leave as soon as Shiro’s back.”

Lance nodded, and reached into the bag. Her flight suit was right on top, and she got her legs into it before hesitating. She didn’t have panties, and her skin was still hot and sensitive, and the flight suit was pretty form fitting. But form fitting was better than half-naked, so she slid her arms into the sleeves and grabbed the space-zipper where it rested at the bottom of its track, halfway down her thigh. The fabric sealed itself without a trace of teeth as she pulled the little metal tab up, and she bit back a moan as the suit tightened around her hips.

The seam pressed directly against her clit, sending sparks of agonizing pleasure shooting through her system, and she inhaled sharply to avoid letting out a moan. It was just the magic talking, she could power through this. Lance dragged the zipper higher, trying to hold her legs as still as possible to avoid shifting the seam between her legs, and bit her lip when the zipper ground to a halt. Her breasts were already straining against the fabric, dampening it around the nipples with liquid she refused to think about, and oh god she could hear footsteps.

Keith was returning. Lance frantically yanked on the zipper. It protested loudly, and the interlocking teeth were clearly visible where the fabric strained between her breasts, but the tab nestled near-seamlessly under her chin as it was designed to and when Keith walked in she was affixing her bracers. The shin guards and greaves were out of the question, but she could at least be half-dressed when they got back to the castle. The breastplate fit over her head easily as they took off, the back half adhering to her flight suit as soon as it fell into place, but the front half jutted out at an odd angle.

It had shifted form as she put it on the first time, moulding itself to her curves, so why wasn’t it doing the same now? Lance’s breath caught in her throat, and her hands tightened on the bottom of the armour. Allura had said that the armour would only adjust for its Paladin and the royal family. If it wasn’t adjusting now, then that meant she wasn’t the Blue Paladin anymore. Her throat tightened, and she tried to force the breastplate down. The druid’s words echoed in her ears. Good for nothing but breeding stock. Lance choked on a sob, and tried to pull the armour down to fit properly. Had Blue sensed her reaction to what they did, and decided she wasn’t worthy? Had the conjured men been right after all?

Lance felt tears streaking down her face, and her chest hitched painfully with another sob. She’d dared to hope that things could just go back to normal now, but that had been stupid and naive. Things would never be the same again. How could they? Her body didn’t even feel like it was her own anymore, foreign magic burning in her veins, and Lance drew her knees to her chest with a wretched sob. Keith’s footsteps pounded out of the Lion, and Lance curled tighter. She couldn’t face the others like this, but it wasn’t like she could stay hidden in here. She couldn’t hide in Blue, either, and that thought pulled another sob out of her.

“Lance?”

Lance’s head snapped up at the sound of Allura’s voice, and she found the Princess crouching in front of her.

“I’ve dismissed the other Paladins. How are you feeling?”

Lance chuckled, a wet and humourless sound, and let her head hang down again. Allura didn’t even know yet that Blue had rejected her, though it’d be obvious soon enough with the way her breastplate refused to fit. “Like crap.”

“I’d expect so.” Allura chuckled awkwardly. “Your suit started throwing up injury readings as soon as you put it on. Coran has readied a medical suite for a more thorough checkup. Would you rather walk there, or should I carry you?”

Lance sniffled, rubbing at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I don’t think I can walk in this.” she admitted after a long, expectant silence. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Allura’s reply was quick, her tone on the verge of an order. “You are injured, and the victim of druid magic.” slender arms slid under her, and Lance’s eyes widened as the princess stood up effortlessly. “And humans are so very light.” something like mirth danced in her eyes, and Lance abruptly wondered how much the average altean weighed. She was a fair bit heavier than she looked, muscle tended to do that to a girl, but Allura was manhandling her like it was nothing. Honestly, it was kinda hot.

As the tears faded, though, Lance became aware again of how the flight suit clung to her body. It took everything she had not to squirm in Allura’s grip, and she was honestly surprised that her wetness wasn’t the slightest bit visible by the time Allura set her down on a patient’s chair. The paper crinkled under Lance’s shoulders, and she tried to focus on the cool upholstery against her flushed skin. Allura was talking, a steady stream of words pouring over Lance as she dragged out a machine of some sort. It whirred quietly as it came to life and started moving around the chair, then went quiet and pulled back.

“As I thought.” Allura said, and Lance opened her eyes to see the Princess looking at a datapad. “Your suit and armour are classifying the effects of the druids’ magic as an injury, which is why they haven’t adjusted.”

It took Lance a moment to comprehend Allura’s words, but when she did she smiled. If this was an injury, then a stint in a cryo-pod should do the trick to heal it, right? It wasn’t like there was anything that needed to be pulled out, like the crystal shards which were still embedded in her back. “So, guess I’m gonna spend the next day or two in a cryo-pod?” she asked, and was grateful to hear her voice coming out more or less normal.

Allura looked up from the datapad, and smiled. “I’m afraid so.”

“Awesome.” Lance sat up halfway, and pulled her breastplate off as Allura walked over to a closet of cryo-med suits. The less time she had to spend conscious like this, the better.


	4. Epilogue

Keith raised an eyebrow as Lance slouched into the dining room. She was late to breakfast, which was weird enough, but on top of that she was actually wearing her hoodie. Lance never wore her hoodie. “Nice of you to join us.” he said flatly, and Lance straightened up with her trademark shit-eating grin.

“Keith Kogane did you _miss me_?”

“No.” he frowned. Pidge made a poor attempt at hiding a snigger in their food.

“I missed you.” Hunk volunteered.

“Of course you did.” Lance flipped her hair, something Keith had honestly thought only happened in fiction before that night in the desert. “Even Keith missed my perfect face.”

“Perfectly punchable face, you mean.” Keith grumbled as Lance sat down. She kicked him under the table.

“No fighting at the table.” Shiro said, reaching out to flick Keith just above the ear. He didn’t even look up from the datapad next to his plate.

“Lance started it.” Keith huffed, and okay maybe that sounded petulant and childish but it was _true_.

The rest of breakfast went about as smoothly as any other meal, and afterwards Coran drafted Pidge to help with cleanup while the rest of them went to go get ready for training. Or, well, while Lance and Hunk went to go get ready, since they never got up early enough to spar with Keith and Shiro before breakfast. Keith took precisely two steps towards the training room before Lance grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him aside, around a corner into a hallway that lead to a charging room for floating plates and stuff.

“I need to ask you something.” Lance said in a hushed tone, stepping back so she was safely outside of Keith’s personal space.

“And you dragged me into this hallway to do so, why?” Keith frowned. He was never sure if the weird shit Lance did was a girl thing or just a Lance thing, but this seemed like a girl thing.

“It’s personal, okay?” Lance huffed, crossing her arms over her stomach. “I just- how much did you tell them?”

Oh, right, she’d been pretty solidly out of commission during the debrief and hadn’t gotten out of the cryo-pod until stupid early this morning. “Just the basics.” Keith shrugged. “I found you cuffed up, took the head off the druid interrogating you, and you were out of commission because magic.”

“And that’s it? Nothing about the, y’know, other stuff?”

She was blushing. Lance was actually, honest to god blushing. If it hadn’t been about a serious topic, Keith probably would’ve teased her for it. “No.” he shook his head. “We made rules about that shit, remember?”

Lance nodded slowly, obviously remembering the shit-fest of the day after they got Pidge back. Ever since, details of any ‘interrogation’ were considered non-essential for debriefs and only the rescued person could reveal them. “Right, that.” her fingers curled loosely around her elbows. “Thanks.” she smiled, small and tentative and so unlike her usual overconfident beaming Keith almost did a double take. She turned to walk away, and Keith grabbed her by the elbow. Like hell was he letting Lance walk away with the last word.

“I missed you.” he said quickly, then released her elbow as she turned around.

“What?”

“When you were captive.” he clarified, because Lance was Lance and she could be spectacularly dense about these things. “We missed you.”

Lance blushed, and looked down as a smile split her face. “Really?”

“Yeah.” he nodded once, then punched her in the shoulder. “Now c’mon, go get suited up. We’ve got training.”

Lance just grinned and punched him back.


End file.
